Chapter 24 – Snatch

~ * ~ Orodruin ~ * ~

“Hold on, Frodo.”

The voice, though amiable, sounded like thunder, thumping in his heart and banging against the walls of his mind, urging him not to simply snap.

Gandalf.  Frodo’s mind shook.  I cannot hold on.  I do not deserve it.

There was another thunderous sound, but this one was far from friendly.  Mockingly, even, Sauron echoed, “You deserve nothing!”  Then he was gesturing towards Orodruin as he addressed the Orcs. “What are you waiting for, rats?  Throw him down now!”

It was as though rolls and rolls of thick, grey clouds were spinning in Frodo’s mind, swathing it and impeding it from hearing Gandalf’s words, forcing it instead to recall memories from the past—something that usually happened to a dying person.

Pippin sent him sprawling on his back in the midst of Farmer Maggot’s cornfields.

Sam, hesitating to take a step further away from the Shire, accepted his hand.

Gandalf caught him with ease as he leapt into the Wizard’s cart.

Bilbo pulled him into his arms as the thunder and lightning wakened him terrified and trembling in his first night at Bag End.

His mama smiled and placed a tender kiss on his brow before he went to sleep the night before he found out that it was the very last time he ever saw her smile.

It finally came to Frodo that he was indeed dying, and he was not about to defy the will of the Valar.  His shoulders slumped, and his arms surrendered to the orcs’ paws.  The Ring was safe in his companions’ hands; that much was enough for him now.  Someone—anyone—would have to pick up where he left off.  The sound of Sauron’s laughter in the background might as well stay a background; let him laugh at Frodo’s pitiful memories, sneer at the fact that Frodo was giving up.  Because he was not giving up.  He simply wanted this to be over.  They were stalling enough trying to save him, and they did not have to anymore.

Suddenly, a forceful grip closed on the back of Frodo’s neck, shoving him further from the edge of the cliff over the crackling and hissing flames whose scorching heat slapped against his face.  Frodo choked, his head arching backward, and, as much as he did not want to shun his destiny, it was instinct to defend himself that drove him to strain against the orcs’ clutches.  He was a mere spirit here, with no corporeal body that could be reduced to ashes, but the spirit would surely die in the fire.  And if he died here, his other half would follow suit.

He was pushed further and further, and suddenly his feet were kicking air.  This is it.  Frodo sniffed inwardly.  Mama, Papa, I shall finally meet you again.

“Sauron, halt!”

No other creatures ever dared tell him to stop.  Sauron, or the contracting mist, hissed and squeezed Frodo’s neck for the last time before turning around, growling in wrath.  But he welcomed the sight before him with a content smirk.

“Gandalf.” He seemed to nod, and then his gaze lowered. “And the Halfling himself.”

The spirit-Frodo tensed, wrenching himself around.  Then his eyes bulged, stinging with unshed tears.  He—Gandalf—was back, and… and himself.  They had come for him.  He was going home.

~ * ~ Rivendell ~ * ~

Everyone straightened as Gandalf’s command to Sauron reverberated against the four walls of Frodo’s room.  Pippin grasped Merry’s hand, and Merry squeezed it, every single intent to comfort his younger cousin apparent in that simple gesture.  Sam, who was standing the closest to Frodo’s bedside, glanced at Strider, who nodded slightly back at him.

“Be prepared, Samwise,” Strider said softly.  “When Gandalf says something about the Ring, you must do it quickly.”

Sam’s face blanched—he was not used to being the one that others reliant upon.  If he failed, Frodo would die.  He just couldn’t fail…  Sam swallowed nervously but nodded his head nevertheless.

~ * ~ Orodruin ~ * ~

Gandalf fingered Elrond’s ring on his left hand as he turned to face Frodo, who was shaking slightly despite the strong determination on his face.

“Are you ready, my lad?”

Frodo tilted his head up, responding through the flicker in his eyes.  Gandalf’s expression softened, pity flashing briefly through his eyes as he was reminded of the torment and agony the little one had been going through. 

But the question alarmed Sauron.

“You are not setting up something foolish, are you, Gandalf?”

The Wizard kept silent then, noting that some of the orcs that were not holding the other half of the Halfling had positioned themselves around him and Frodo.  Sauron scoffed at the dread on Gandalf’s features.

“I see that you have not become brighter, my friend Gandalf.  You haven’t tried to save that one; you even bring another for a pleasure that shall be mine alone.”

“Release Frodo, Sauron.  All you desire is the Ring, and I bring It to you.”

Sauron laughed with glee.

“I have been trying to make him surrender It to me.” He nodded toward Frodo, dangling hopelessly in the orcs’ hands.  “He is just stubborn to think that he can hold It back from me.  He shouldn’t have had to pay for his obstinacy.”

To his dismay, pride was what came out of Gandalf’s mouth.

“That’s our Frodo.”

“Silence!” Sauron roared, his patience thinning.  “My Ring, Gandalf,” he growled.

“Bring forth Frodo!” Gandalf insisted, “and summon back all your worthless followers here, or else.”

Low rumbles were heard from the contracting fog, and it stirred, eventually complying with what Gandalf asked.  The orcs withdrew, save the two that came forward dragging a sagging Hobbit.  They snarled, as though disagreeing with their master’s decision, but Sauron barked at them, making the creatures cringe and submit at once.  They ditched Frodo none too gently not too far from Gandalf, who had trouble stopping the other Frodo from running to his missing half, and snuck backward.

“Frodo, wait!  It won’t do if you pull yourself out of the Ring,” hissed Gandalf, grasping the Hobbit’s upper arm with his free hand.

“Gandalf…” Sauron whispered, threatening.

Gandalf measured the Dark Lord through narrowed eyes.

“Patience, my friend.”  This time he was the one who was mocking, edging toward the spirit-Frodo who gaped at him full of hope but still not looking down.  “You will get your precious soon.”  Gandalf reached out his hand, and Frodo accepted it gratefully.

“But I have a small problem here, Sauron.  My hands are full.  How about if you help yourself with the Ring?”  Then Gandalf tilted his head up and shouted out, “Sam, now.  Pull It out, lad.  NOW!”

~ * ~ Rivendell ~ * ~

Samwise did not see anything, and neither did his fellow hobbits, the elf, or the man in the room, but they all heard everything Gandalf was saying, thanks to Elrond’s ring, and they certainly heard his urging command.  Sam had stayed close to Gandalf and Frodo when they disappeared after they put on the Ring, and he felt it when Gandalf inched forward by the warm feeling of the wizard’s breath.  Sam did not dawdle; he felt around, and suddenly… that was it—Gandalf and Frodo’s fingers, which were affixed together by the Ring.  Sam felt Its coldness, and he pulled It with all his might.

TBC